


A Kingdom By The Sea

by heartshapedglasses



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartshapedglasses/pseuds/heartshapedglasses
Summary: (Set in the 1920s) Ryan Ross is a famous author who goes to his best friend's house every summer to write. In the summer of 1926, Jon's cousin is staying there too. Ryan's life is turned upside down when he meets Brendon Urie, and as secrets get revealed and young love begins to form, Ryan finds he needs to choose between the two things he cares about the most: Love and his career.





	1. Prologue

Ryan's living room was a disaster. There were books scattered around everywhere, his typewriter placed on the table, its unfinished papers on the ground. It was an accurate description of how Ryan's head was at that moment. His wife had already gone, Z went to stay with her sister because according to her, he couldn't raise a child in the state he was in. He didn't blame her at all, honestly. Ever since-

He stood up, grabbing an already opened bottle of whiskey from the counter and taking a long sip from it. He refused to think about Brendon. He couldn't. God, he should have handled everything differently. He shouldn't have left him in the first place. Ryan had left (and ultimately doomed) Brendon to protect his perfect, wholesome image as an author -an author whose books and poetry were dark, but had been portrayed as a mentally sound person since the beginning.- He had left the only person that ever made him happy to protect an image of himself that did not exist anymore. Now he was the disgraced writer. A drunk like his father. But being an alcoholic and having an unbearable personality were forgivable, and almost to be expected from someone like him. Brendon was a secret he would take to his grave.

A secret. Because of his insistence to keep Brendon a secret they had ended up like his.

A loud knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he groaned, not moving from the spot near the counter in hopes that whoever it was would realize he wasn't accepting guests. He never was, and even less now. Whoever was behind that door did apparently not realize this, and after a few, unbearable minutes Ryan set the the bottle down, slowly walking over to the front door and opening it. Spencer and Jon were standing there, staring at him in a mixture of worry and contempt. Ryan just stared at them for what seemed like forever, mind working at a slow pace.

"What are you doing here?" Ryan asked, voice hoarse.

"We just wanted to see how you were..." Jon said, looking almost like he didn't recognize the person in front of him.

Spencer looked at a loss or words, staring at him in surprise. "Is everything okay?"

Ryan almost laughed for the first time in months. Not just because of how stupid the question was, but because of the scandalized expression on Jon's face. Jon quickly lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before glancing at Spencer. "Is now a bad time to tell you Ryan knows the truth?"

"He knows?"

"I told him."

"So, he knows Brendon's-"

"He had a right to know, don't you think?" Jon asked, taking another drag. Spencer and Ryan stayed silent.

"Well, you saw me," Ryan said after the silence and their worried looks became unbearable. "I'm real good. Now, leave."

"It's been six months, Ryan. Write about it and move on," Jon said.

"How can you- He was your-"

"He was my cousin. My family. He made his own decision and I will not suffer about the fact that I could have changed his mind," Jon said, interrupting him. "Even Spencer, his best friend, is getting over it. It's your turn."

"I can't!" He shouted, stepping back. "It's my fucking fault! It happened because of me! You don't- You don't know how I feel!"

"It wasn't your fault," Spencer said quietly. "He was-"

Ryan stepped forward, slamming the door shut. Jon began shouting at him from outside, shouting about how Ryan was throwing his whole life and his potential away. Ryan ignored him. Jon and Spencer knew the full story, yes. But they only saw what they wanted to see. They were forcing themselves into ignoring the fact that what Ryan and Brendon felt more each other was just more than love. They didn't understand that.

No one would ever be able to understand them. He couldn't even try to explain what he felt for Brendon. No one could ever know. He sat down on the couch again, eyes landing on a torn out page from the book Ryan was writing that summer. It was a poem. It was too personal to publish, but Brendon loved it, memorized every line of it. Brendon had smiled in embarrassment when Ryan pointed it out, cheeks flushed a bright pink. He'd never see Brendon smile again.

Ryan took a long sip from the bottle, leaning back onto the couch.

He should have gone with Brendon. Maybe it'd be better if he did.

 


	2. Chapter One

Ryan read Jon's book as the cab driver tried to make conversation about the weather and how Southern California was the best place to live in. Ryan wasn't really listening, more focused on the book and how different his and Jon's themes were. Ryan wrote dark stories. Characters with ambiguous morals and dead love interests. Jon wrote about the exact opposite. But unfortunately, Ryan's books and poetry were the ones that people loved to read and be mortified at. It was no wonder he was the number one best selling author in America, thank you very much. The driver eventually stopped talking -not that Ryan really noticed in the first place- and soon he was left in front of Jon's villa.

Ryan got his bags before ringing the doorbell. A brown haired woman Ryan had never seen opened the door and let him in silently before walking up the stairs quickly to go look for Jon. Someone was playing guitar in the living room, and just as Ryan was about to go see if Jon had suddenly developed musical abilities during the time they hadn't seen each other, Jon ran downstairs. "Ryan!" He said, giving him a short hug. "I'm so glad to see you! Come with me to my office," He didn't wait for a response, leading Ryan upstairs quickly. Jon's office was really a room with a desk, a typewriter and a couch where the man got high on dope or drank near the point of passing out. 

Jon and Ryan had met sometime in 1921, back when they were both struggling writers who didn't really see a future in the business. They became as close as brothers, and even when they each reached success -Ryan becoming just a bit more well-known- neither of them had forgotten that. Ryan had spent every summer since 1923 in the villa with Jon. There was a guest bedroom that was practically reserved for him and Ryan knew of a spot near the back of the property that almost no one visited. Some of his more successful stories had been written there.

Jon sat down on top of his desk, lighting a cigar as Ryan sat down on the couch. "So, you know my cousin Brendon? Brendon Urie."

"No. Wait- Uh- The one who wants to be a musician? You've mentioned him."

"Well, my Aunt and Uncle have stopped paying for his college tuition and he doesn't have anywhere to stay."

Ryan paused, mind going back to the mellow sound he heard coming from the living room when he was downstairs. "So, you bought him his own house or somethin' right? That'll look real good, Jon! You should tell the press."

"He's staying here for the time being. I already told him to not bother you."

"But-"

"You won't even know he's here. I promise."

Ryan was about to say something else, until he realized that it wasn't his house and that he wasn't just there to write, he was also there to see Jon. "Fine," He said. "I'll be by the beach, okay? I'll see you at lunchtime," was all he said before he walked to his room.  His bags were already there, but Ryan didn't bother changing his clothes as he grabbed an empty notebook and headed outside and walked to his secluded spot by the beach. It was close to Jon's house, so it was near the beach. But there was never anyone there, not matter how crowded Jon's house was. Ryan didn't understand why. It was perfect, a tree even providing shade from the sun. It was a lonely place most didn't bother going to because of all the splendor there was at the front of the property.

But apparently, Brendon Urie was not most people.

Jon's cousin was sitting where Ryan always sat, playing something on his guitar. Ryan watched him for a moment before walking over to him. "Excuse me," He said. "That's my spot."

Brendon looked up at him and Ryan was taken aback for a second. Full lips. Dark brown eyes. Handsome features. If Ryan was back in New York, Brendon would be exactly the type of man he would- No, none of that. Not now. Brendon blinked, looking unimpressed. "Well, I was here first."

"I've practically had this place reserved since Jon bought the house, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Brendon said. "Please let me stay here, though? I promise I won't bother you."

Ryan scoffed. "Well, aren't you a doll?" He asked sarcastically, but sat down next to Brendon. As long as Brendon didn't bother him or interrupt him while he was writing, they shouldn't have a problem, right?

Except there was. Ryan couldn't write well with other people near him, much less pretty boys who he barely even knew. Besides, Brendon kept trying to read what he was writing, which bothered Ryan somehow. Even though most young adults would read the story -If he ever published it- the raw product was different than the book everyone read. 

Eventually, he closed the notebook, leaving the character trapped in a loveless relationship to fend for himself inside the pages. Brendon apparently took this as an invitation to talk, because he sat up and stopped playing guitar, staring at Ryan in that way people looked at him when they wanted to ask a question but didn't know how he'd react. "So, you're Ryan Ross..." Brendon said, not much of anything in his voice. There was no disappointment. No surprise. 

No admiration.

"Yeah," Ryan said, then tried not to act like the question he was about to ask would dictate whether he would stay or if he would simply leave. "Are you a fan of my work?"

Brendon laughed softly. "Hm? Not really. I don't really read much."

Ryan actually felt relieved. He'd much rather be stuck with someone that didn't know or appreciate what Ryan wrote than a fan of his work. Jon was the exact opposite, he lived for the attention. Ryan on the other hand, just wanted to share his words with the world -And, sure, make a small profit off it, too- But he found it strange how people felt connected to him just by reading his words off a page. 

'Well, you should," Ryan said. "Read something, I mean. Not one of my books. Maybe one of Jon's."

Brendon shrugged, obviously not caring about reading. "Jon told me you spend every summer here. Why's that?"

Ryan didn't say anything for a few seconds. "So, that's all you know about me?"

"Maybe. Jon doesn't really like talking to me but people like talking about you."

He already knew that. Well, no one outside his social circle had ever told him that before, but still.

A man suddenly walked over to them, wearing an expensive suit that Ryan considered too hot to be worn in the hot weather they were in. "Mr. Walker has been waiting for you. Lunch was served fifteen minutes ago," Spencer said, then hurried away back into the house. Ryan sighed, standing up and grabbing his notebook, watching as Brendon did the same and picked up his guitar. 

"Is that Jon's friend?" Brendon asked.

"That's his butler," Ryan said. "But Jon tries to be his friend."

Brendon nodded, and Ryan wondered if he really didn't know or if he was simply trying to make conversation. Either way, he didn't ask, silently walking into the house with Brendon.

Jon was already eating when they got to the dining room, but he stopped once Ryan sat down across from him, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Was he bothering you?" He asked Ryan, glancing briefly at Brendon almost as if he was trying to make it clear who exactly he was referring to.

"No," Ryan mumbled, beginning to eat even if he wasn't hungry simply to avoid conversation. 

"Good," Jon said, then began eating again. They all ate lunch in silence, which surprised Ryan for some reason. Jon was always talking, and Brendon seemed to be the same. But the room was tense, like they didn't like being around each other. Brendon lit a cigar once he was done, leaning back in his chair. 

Jon eventually left, muttering something about having a more important engagement.

Ryan paused, then decided it would be okay to ask. "Do you two not get along or something?"

"We get along fine," Brendon said, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Ryan didn't try to ask again.


End file.
